A/N: INFINITY WAR TRAILER IS OUT YOU GUYS THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT NOT. A. DRILL.
I saw it first thing today and it literally made my entire week. Go watch it now if you haven't already because I've seen it ten times and I still can't get enough.
LET ME JUST SAY THAT I️ WAS LIVING FOR THE TWO SHOTS OF BUCKY IN THERE: lookin' all handsome running behind Steve and cocking his gun... HOT DAMN.
Anyway it was amazing. Beyond belief. Exceeded all expectations.
I will get back to the chapter now.
-Winnie
Words: 8.4K
Warnings: SMUT! Long story with lots of smut! Hope all the Steve lovers out there enjoy this labor of love...
The TV plays clips from a hundred different channels as I lazily click up and down. I hesitate on a rerun episode of the Kardashians: catching a fraction of a dramatic fight between Khloe and Kourtney. I raise an eyebrow and settle farther into the couch with a bowl of trail mix. But before I can really get comfortable I hear someone rustling by the door behind me. I decide it's worth cranking my stiff neck to see who's going out on the town this Friday night. We know it's not Tony—he's already gone. Nat's in Prague with Sam on a mission. Clint's on the farm. Who knows who it could be?
Keeping the bowl steady in my lap I turn back. Steve, blond hair brushed to a perfect little updo atop his tall head, is leaning against the wall and hilariously failing at fitting his big feet into a pair of borrowed shoes. They look like they maybe belong to Tony. Of course Steve wouldn't own anything fancy enough to go with this outfit. He's wearing an expensive suit, of all things, and a tight-laced black tie. It's almost comical seeing him in a penguin suit rather than the iconic blue spandex one.
"Oh don't you look handsome." I giggle at his wide eyed reaction to my compliment. "Snazzy outfit, Cap."
"Uh, you think so?" Steve momentarily forgets about shoving his feet into the shoes. He stands up to straighten the ends of his jacket for me to properly see.
I nod. "Real sexy." Steve's cheeks blast red with color. I have to stuff my mouth with more chocolate candies to keep from laughing at his modest reaction. "What're you all dressed up to the nines for anyway? I thought you were too much of an old fart to go out on a Friday night." I forfeit the Kardashians and turn around fully—arms perched on the back rest of the couch.
Steve, who looks a bit flustered since he still hasn't been able to put on the shoes, runs a hand through his hair. It sort of muffs up the style a bit but I don't say anything about it because it almost looks better this way: more of his natural 'do.
"Hallie invited me to some fancy gala thing for work."
A long hum comes from the back of my throat. "Oh that's the girl you're seeing, right?" I play dumb. Of course I know who he's been casually dating the past few weeks. Bucky, Sam and me—Steve's three best friends—talk about Steve's lame love life all the time (or lack thereof).
"Uh, yep. That's the one." Steve won't meet my eyes as he CONTINUES to struggle with the tight laced shoes. "What the hell..." he mumbles to himself. I can almost see beads of sweat building on his fluster-wrinkled brow.
I decide that my pity for the super soldier trumps my laziness so I go to join him by the door to help with the shoe situation. "Sit," I instruct him. Steve does as I say—perhaps not wanting to test me after I angrily twisted his nipple just three days ago when he told me that I couldn't go with him and Bucky to Cairo (it's "too dangerous" for me, apparently). I then told him maybe he shouldn't wear such stupidly tight shirts or I wouldn't be able to see those nipples so prominently through the thin material. He's worn sweaters and jackets around me ever since then.
Anyway, Steve takes a seat on the closest chair. I flop down onto the ground and take one of his feet in my hands. My fingers are cold and I assume that's why he shivers when I tug off his sock and my fingertips run along his calf. With the thick sock gone I can loosen the laces of the shoe just enough to fit him. When I manage this with the first one I go on to the next. I hear Steve take a hard swallow and then glance up at him through my long lashes.
"You seem nervous." I quickly tie the laces and then tap his knee to signal that I'm done. I stay seated on the ground while he gets up with a mumbled, "thanks". I decide to pester him some more. "Why do you look like you're going to a funeral or somethin'? You've got a constipated look on your face."
Steve frowns at me. He keeps this up for only a moment before remembering that he can't keep secrets from me. I'm his best friend, remember? I'm his confidant. He trusts me with more of himself than he trusts anyone else: even Bucky. Bucky's got a lot going on in his own world right now. So when Steve wants to talk to someone, he talks to me.
"I, well, I..." Steve runs his long fingers through the blond hair again.
"Well...?" I raise an eyebrow. I scoot back on the floor far enough to try to reach my bowl of trail mix that still sits on the corner of the couch. Steve notices my struggle and grabs it for me—passing it down without a word. I criss-cross my legs and wait patiently for what he's going to say. I crunch down on a peanut.
Steve suddenly bashes through that wall of insecurity to tell me everything. He flops back down onto the chair and starts rambling the whole story. "Hallie and I have been going out for a little while now. Like a month, right? That's a while, I guess. But it hasn't been an incredibly long time. And I don't know, I guess it's pretty casual. But she—well, she's getting impatient I guess. I'm trying not to make a big deal about it but it kinda is, ya know? I tried asking Bucky about it but he doesn't really think it's an issue and Sam—well, Sam thinks I should've slept with her the first night. But now Hallie's got this hotel room booked in the same resort that the gala is at and..."
"Wait, wait, wait!" I hurriedly stop him with outstretched hands. My eyes are wider than saucers. "You mean—holy shit, Steve—you mean... Oh my god: you are going to a funeral! Your stone-aged virginity is finally being buried!"
Steve grits his teeth. He pushes himself up to stand and stomp past me. "Ya know what, never mind. I shouldn't have said anything..."
Before he can pass I reach out to wrap my arms around his thick legs. I stop him by hugging onto his lower half like a clingy koala. "Stop! Steve stop, please, I'm sorry. It was a joke. I won't tease anymore, I'm sorry."
Steve tries to shake me off of him like a dog with a flea. But when he looks down at me, plenty ready to snap, he sees my puppy eyes and stops. He regards me for a moment before heaving a sigh. He ignores my apology, instead asking, "What should I do?"
I blink. I don't wanna loosen my arms from how they're laced around his thick, muscular legs. "Well..." I tap my forehead against his knee—causing him to chuckle lightly way up there. Finally I crank my neck back to look at him. "I think you should... do whatever you wanna do." I shrug. "If you wanna get it on with Hallie, go for it. You wouldn't even have to tell anyone. May as well let your first be with a supermodel." I force a smile to sprout on my lips. Finally I decide I should probably let go of poor Steve's legs. "Just don't let your expectations be too high. Not everyone has tits that perky."
My words make Steve blush profusely. I tend to have that effect on him with what I chose to say. "Um, okay."
"It's not that big of a deal though. Just do whatever you want." I grab my bowl of trail mix again to give myself something to do besides stare up at him.
Steve swallows. He grabs his keys from the table by the door. "I—I'm gonna go for it." He smiles and then nods, almost as if having an internal conversation with himself. "You're right—it's not that big of a deal."
"Yeah."
"It'll be fun. Right? It'll be fun?" He glances down at me in an unsure way.
I laugh lightly. "Yes, Steve. It'll be fun." I try not to think too much about him having that sort of fun tonight. I'd much rather have him safely at home on the couch having fun with me: playing Mario Kart, eating Doritos, or... or... literally anything.
But I bite down on the inside of my cheek as Steve flashes me one last shit-eating grin. He gathers up the rest of his things. "I look okay?"
"Not a day over seventy five," I tease.
Steve laughs. He goes for the door, ready to leave, before mumbling as if he's forgotten something important. Then he dashes back straight towards me—leaning far enough down to touch the side of my face and then sloppily kisses the top of my head. "Thanks, doll. Have a good night, okay?"
"You too, Romeo."
After Steve's gone I decide that trail mix isn't enough to satisfy me tonight. I raid the freezer until I find Sam's secret stash of Rocky Road ice cream hidden back behind the frozen peas. Then I flop back down onto the sofa, not caring that I just dripped some chocolate on the white cushion, and grab the remote. I glance over at the time and realize how lame it is that I'm sitting alone at 8 o clock on a Friday night in my pink sweatpants and a tub of ice cream. The Kardashians mock me from the television screen.
I shut off the TV. I toss the ice cream back into the freezer and then jog upstairs to my suite. I dig around my closet until I find my favorite little black dress and cherry red high heel shoes. Quickly I throw my hair into a decent bun and slap enough makeup on my face to look presentable. With myself ready, in less than an hour may I add, I snatch up my bag and head back downstairs for the door.
Bucky spots me in the hall. He raises an eyebrow. He looks like he's coming back from the gym. "You're going out?" He wipes sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Yep." I tighten the straps on my shoes and keep my story short.
"I thought you were staying in tonight. I was thinking we could watch Harry Potter or somethin'."
"Tomorrow? I just really need to get outta the house tonight," I hope he won't take this personally.
Bucky shrugs and then smiles. "Sure, dude. Rain check." He slaps my shoulder affectionately as he leaves me in the foyer. "Have fun tonight. Try not to bring any random losers home this time. This is supposed to be a secure facility."
"That was one time!" I shout after him as he walks off.
"Twice!"
I chuckle lightly when I break out of the residential corridor. I walk down the next hall then ride the elevator down to the garage. I call an Uber and travel far, far, far downtown. I sort of lose myself in the chaos of Friday night for the next five hours. After a couple of drinks and a couple of handsy dances at the club I wander down Times Square to look at the lights. I buy myself a pretzel, wondering why the hell I had to leave the tower in the first place if I'm doing the same thing I was at home: eating and watching big colorful screens.
It's 1 am when I finally decide it's time to go home. I don't bother being quiet when I stroll in. The door smacks the wall behind it with a loud whap when I break the threshold. But the noise isn't what startles me: no, what widens my eyes is seeing Steve Rogers sitting in my spot on the couch with his legs bent crooked and a straight lipped look on his face. He eats ice cream out of the tub and bright reds and blues flashes along the pale skin of his face from the TV screen.
"Hey." Steve doesn't bother looking over at me.
I feel my brows gnarl. I come into the room, remembering to close and lock the door behind me. "You're home?"
"Yeah." Steve takes a rather large bite of Rocky Road. Finally his blue eyes dart over to me. "And you went out?"
"Oh. Yeah." I shrug. I slip my coat off and toss it onto the back of a chair. I come farther into the living room to join Steve on the couch. He scoots over to make room for me on my favorite side. The cushion is warm where he's been. I almost laugh when I see that the show he's so carefully watching is the Kardashians.
"Why are you home?" I ask Steve—alluding to his plans for the night that he'd seemed relatively excited about earlier.
"Why are you?" Steve questions me in return, sounding incredibly hostile—like he's pissed that I'm intruding on his sulking time.
The nasty remark makes me want to punch him. My fists even bundle. But instead I decide to bitterly retort, "I almost didn't. I had a couple guys wanna take me home but I wasn't in the mood." I don't know why I tell him this. It's not even the full truth. It's true that there were a couple guys, but my lonely night has nothing to do with my mood. It has to do with the fact that when the first one tried to kiss me I became absolutely revolted with the idea of this stranger's lips on mine. And when the second one grabbed my hand it felt too small and soft—not the roughness or size of the one I really wanted to be holding.
Steve scoffs. "You make it sound so easy." He lifts up the spoon to take another self-loathing bite of ice cream.
Tired of his pity party, I smack the utensil clear out of his hand. Chocolate splatters everywhere when the spoon hits the floor.
"Hey!" Steve glares at me, but he's not really angry.
"Enough with the drama, Steve. What the hell happened tonight? I know you wanna talk about it."
Steve opens his mouth, looking like he's going to argue, before shutting his trap. Then he leans back farther into the couch. He shoves the carton of melting ice cream onto the table. "I..." he averts his eyes away from my face. "I couldn't do it."
"That's fine. It's not a big deal." For some odd reason I feel sort of... relieved.
Steve shakes his head briskly. It's now that I realize he's still wearing his suit and tie from earlier. The tie's been loosened though and hangs limp around his throat. "It is, Y/N. It's a big deal because I'm absolutely terrified, and no one understands. She didn't understand..." he shakes his head and stares ahead at Kim on the screen. "Now it's over."
"Over? Like... permanently?"
Steve sighs, "She thought it was personal or something. I told her no—no, I just—I just don't know. Maybe it was personal. It didn't feel right. That's the truth. It didn't feel right."
"Maybe," I struggle to come up with something helpful to say, "Maybe you just didn't trust her enough."
"What about Sharon? What's the reason for Sharon then? I trusted her."
I take the ice cream carton. I dip my finger into the mixture and suck the cream clean. "Well, she was Peggy's niece. That's already sorta weird. I don't blame you for not wanting to have sex with her." I carefully watch the side of Steve's face as he stares ahead at the TV. I can tell he's listening to what I'm saying: he always does. Like I said, I'm his best friend. I'm the only one he can talk to about this sort of thing. "Have you ever thought that maybe you just don't wanna have sex?"
"But I do," Steve says it so quick that he's regurgitating on the words. His whole face turns red and I'm trying not to laugh. "I mean, I—I... I'm a grown ass man, Y/N. I think I'm more than ready." He leans forward until his head is in his hands. "I just don't know how I can trust anyone enough to let myself try."
I feel bad for Steve—I really do. I understand where he's coming from. He's an emotional fellow. He loves with all his heart. People these days... they're not as dedicated as he is. But at the same time he's trying to adapt to the new world and to living life as his own age. And as weird as it sounds, in this life of an Avenger those sorts of emotional and physical connections with other people are ten times as important as they were before. You need something to keep you feeling human: to keep you warm and soft when all the misery tries to turn you hard.
My hand rests on the middle of Steve's back as he stays hunched. I rub tight circles with my open palm and then lean over to rest my chin on his shoulder. He stays staring at the floor thinking about god-knows what.
"You'll find someone, Steve. The girl of your dreams is gonna come along some day."
"But how long is that gonna take? Y/N, I'm a very impatient 100 year old virgin, and I need to get laid." His laughter makes me giggle—having to turn my face into his shoulder so that I don't wake everyone in the tower with my peals. Steve laughs harder as my giggling grows.
"I cannot believe you sometimes, Rogers." I shake my head as we settle down. I lean back in the couch and scoff jokingly, "If I didn't think you'd make it weird I'd let you fuck me and get it over with."
Steve's head turns towards me. He's raising an eyebrow up higher on his forehead. "That was a joke... right?"
I open my mouth to assure him that it was—but I stop myself. Was I actually kidding? Or would I seriously consider doing such a thing?
"Well, I mean, that's up to you." I smile and cross my arms.
Steve's big blue eyes stare at me so hard I'm actually feeling shy. I scoot around until he gets the hint and breaks his intense gaze. "Sorry, I just..." he clears a lump that's formed in his throat. "No, I mean—that's a ridiculous idea..." he sounds to be arguing with himself by the tone he's taken.
"Is it though?" What the hell is wrong with me?! Why did I just say that?!
Steve's thick blond brows furrow. "You—you're my best friend..."
"Exactly." I lightly punch him in the shoulder—trying to make light of this suddenly intense situation. "Who do you trust better?"
"I—I..." Steve starts stuttering the same syllable over and over.
Awkwardly I chuckle. "Listen, it was just an idea." I stand up from my seat with suddenly jello-strength legs. "Let me know if you change your mind. It's really not that big of a deal to me. So if you think you can be cool about it, and you wanna try, let me know." I walk away from the couch—grabbing my coat and keys on the way. There's no noise except for my heels clicking the floor, Kim Kardashian blabbering, and my heart pounding in my head as I sashay away.
In front of the elevator is where I really start to digest what I've just done. In the darkness of the hall I internally begin to scold myself: freaking out about how terrifyingly forward and possibly relationship-ruining my proposal had been.
The happy little ding of the elevator signals it's arrived for me. I step inside, heel almost getting trapped in the cracks of the grout, before going to click the button for my floor: number seven. Any attempts to mellow my heart are in vain as the doors slowly crank closed.
Before the portal can shut a hand is being jammed through. The doors reel wider until Steve's silhouette is revealed to be standing there. Without a word he comes all the way into the elevator—blue eyes boring steadfast into my face.
I decide to let him be the first to speak.
"I can be cool," Steve finally utters. I laugh lightly and he shakes his head. "I mean, I can manage no strings attached." My laughter stops. He's staring at me with a very solemn expression. "If you were being serious with your offer, I mean."
I don't hesitate to say, "I was."
Steve takes a soft step closer. It's hardly noticeable. "And you're really sure you'd be okay with this?"
I nod—realizing that he's taken two more steps. I only know because my back is to the elevator wall and his chest is only an inch apart from mine.
Steve's blue eyes peer down at me. He makes no other advances towards me except for a slight tilt of his chin as he says, "I need you to assure me that this is something you're okay with." Those baby blues dance along every inch of my face—making me feel more seen than I ever have before. "I need your permission, Y/N."
"You have it." I swallow a lump in my throat. "I want to help you..." the sentence slowly loses its meaning when I realize that Steve's face is closing in on mine. Suddenly I'm caring less about helping him and more about my own needs that call for his lips to be on mine and his hands roaming over my body.
One of those sought-after hands appears on the wall next to my head. The elevator is still moving us upwards. It doesn't feel like we're going to my floor.
I expect him to say more. I expect Steve to put that oversized foot in his mouth again. But he doesn't. Instead, that mouth delicately presses against mine. Those lips—the ones that I've been staring at for over three years—are so ridiculously soft that my breath is plain taken away. It's the most peaceful, gentle kiss anyone's ever bestowed me with. And although I know that this is all just a game, I can't help but feel so wanted. It's when his tongue first swipes along my lower lip that I reach out for him. I grab his hand—I don't know why. I could hold him anywhere and this is the place I pick. But I'm sort of confused and scared, and holding Steve's big, rough hand is one of the most soothing things for me. But I'm also excited—thrilled to taste his sweet flavor and have his body closing in on me from all sides. It's the most exhilarating moment of my life...
Then it stops. The elevator stops. The kiss stops. The world stops.
Steve's pulling away with moist lips. I'm the last to open my eyes—blinking rapidly as he takes a step back. Our hands are still entwined. He takes a couple steps back towards the opened doors. I can see his apartment laid out on the other side. He raises an eyebrow as if to ask, "Well? Are you coming?"
I swallow. My feet move me across the floor. I make it out of the elevator and only that far before Steve's lips are on mine again. This time he has a hand laced up in my hair and his arm hooked around my waist. He's dragging my body flush to his—so tight that I can finally discover how fucking stiff his body is. He's like a Roman statue, head to toe perfection, and carved out just for me. He holds me tighter than I've ever been held before. His lips: god—how they dance so beautifully. His kiss is unimaginably amazing. I've always thought of kissing as a boring lead up to the main event, but this man... damn, I could kiss Steve all day long. He pours every ounce of his soul into the gesture until his fingertips become electric with lust as they dance along my cheek. Shivers erupt over my skin.
Steve, in the middle of our kiss, laces our fingers together once more. He gives me a soft squeeze and I fall even harder. My free arm reaches up to wrap around his neck so that I can get a fistful of his soft hair. I tug gently on his locks while his mouth continues to dominate the kiss.
Steve breaks away—nose brushing against mine. I feel that other hand of his trail up my waist. He traces patterns over my ribcage. "Can I touch you?"
His question makes me hotter. "Please do," I breathe—head tilting to try and chase his lips again. Steve chuckles and lets me capture him, all while his touch slowly inches up my chest. It's not long before his large hand is cupping my covered breast and squeezing—massaging me gently. Then, after he's tried that, he's moving his hand back behind. He gets a hard handful of my ass—squeezing and rolling the flesh around his palm—and I can't help but stutter out a strained moan. Steve uses this as an opportunity to take control of the kiss again with his tongue ruling over mine. I get back at him by gently raking my teeth across his lower lip. A soft bite there stirs a guttural groan deep in his chest.
"Take off your clothes," I mumble against his lips. I tug at his tie—hoping to tear it all the way loose.
Steve chuckles, "Don't wanna take it slow?" His tone of voice is unlike I've ever heard. It's really fucking dirty—teasing, lusty... goddamn sexy.
I manage to tear the tie away. I start working on the buttons to his shirt. "Like you said—you've waited a hundred years for this. No point in going slow now."
Steve grabs my wrist in his hand. He uses it to tug me back to his chest. I fall into him—expecting him to kiss me again. But what he does instead is bury his face in my neck and suckle on my hot, tender skin there. I let out a shaky breath and loll my head to one side. "But I wanna savor you," Steve whispers directly into my ear. "I wanna know what makes you feel good." His hand is back on my ass to gently knead it.
"That—keep doing that," I can't stop myself from admitting. My body automatically rolls back to aid him in touching more skin.
Steve lightly laughs into my neck. He gives me one last, gentle kiss there before starting up my jaw. The last kiss he places is in the corner of my slightly gaping mouth.
I can't help myself: I start to unbutton his shirt again. Steve lets me do so without interruption this time. He breathes in the smell of my perfume while he watches my hands expertly pop open all the buttons. When I reach his belt I can feel him grow rigid. That's when I hesitate: looking up at him through my eyelashes.
"Are you sure about this, Steve? We don't have to."
Steve cups my face with a hand. He drags my lips back to his—pressing a deep, lusty kiss just where I need him. I can feel a fire growing out of control in my lower belly.
"I want to." Steve takes my hand in his and then brings it back to his belt. I take that as a green light. In one practiced move I unbuckle and unzip the trousers. Then I'm going back up to his upper half to deal with the unbuttoned shirt—helping him in pulling it off while he keeps kissing and sucking on my throat. I laugh as his bulging muscles rip straight through the expensive fabric. He joins me in giggling—his cheeks warm as he buries his face into my neck.
When he's free of a shirt I let my hands wander. Dear god: he's so fucking ripped. Every muscle and ligament is perfectly plucked, poised, and prominent on his body. His skin ripples with each tight movement as he takes the initiative in reaching back for my dress zipper.
"This okay, baby?" Steve mutters into my mouth.
I shiver with the nickname. "Y-yes." No man has ever reduced me to this stuttering, horny mess before. I expected this to go a lot differently... less sultry looks and perhaps more awkward stumbling. But this is already leading up to be one of the greatest nights of my life and we're not even all the way naked yet.
Steve's not blind to my reaction. The slow movement of his hand dragging down my zipper is accompanied by a soft, reassuring smile on his face. "Is it okay if I call you baby?" His other thumb paws at my cheek. "Hmm, doll? Can I call you nicknames?" His voice is so lusty and gravely-low.
I find it hard to breath, let alone speak. I'm usually the one to make Steve blush with my words: not the other way around. This is... insane. Insanely hot, I should say. I nod and run my fingers up his toned arm. I like following the veins with my nails. His muscles tighten every place I travel. I like seeing the little hairs stand up as I go along. "I like it," I eventually manage to admit.
"Me too," Steve breathily chuckles. I get that first feeling of his skin against mine on my bare lower back. He's incredibly warm to the touch. I relax in his arms and close my eyes. Steve's hands trail up to the dress shoulder's until he can get a good enough grip to drag it down. The fabric clinging to my skin is replaced quickly by his hands. They roam and whisper over every inch of me—avoiding my black lace panties and matching bra, though. He still manages to keep his gentlemanly ways while whispering, "You're so gorgeous, doll," into my ear between little erotic nibbles.
"You're not so bad yourself, Soldier," I chuckle. Our lips brush as we both smile into the kiss. "You don't look a day over fifty."
Steve laughs—that same laugh he gives me when I kick his ass in a game of Monopoly or when we watch dorky 80 movies on TV. My heart skips a dozen beats.
I'm sort of confused as to what he's doing when he suddenly stoops down. But then, with his pants slipping low and his blond hair wild, he hooks his arms around my lower half to lift me up into his arms. He uses my ass as a little prop to keep me up in his embrace. I have to look down at him through my lace-clad breasts in order to see his blue eyes, but he seems to enjoy this view.
"I like being taller than you," I comment as I run my fingers softly through his hair.
"Don't get used to it, babe." Steve smirks up at me. He gives my ass a cheeky squeeze and I laugh again.
Steve takes me to his bedroom. This is the place where I've come to tell him all of my biggest fears and to hear all of his. This is where I first saw him cry and where we spend every Wednesday night watching Family Feud on his TV. And now, much to the shock of us both, I'm being carefully laid down on Steve's mattress with our lips hungrily exploring one another. Steve stays by the edge of the bed long enough to pull off his trousers the rest of the way. He leaves on his boxers, much to my disappointment, but I guess it's only fair since I'm still wearing mine.
The hot bodied super soldier crawls his way up between my legs. My heart hammers as his hands gently pull my knees far enough apart to make room for his wide frame. His fingertips trail up from there to the tight elastic waistline of my panties. Softly he plucks and plays with the fabric.
"Take them off, Steve," I tell him. I stop when I realize how this must sound. I almost forgot about the situation we're in. "I mean, if you want to. If you still want to..."
Steve shuts me up with a hard, lusty kiss. He pulls away to say, "I want it to be you, baby."
I lace my fingers around his neck. I try to drag his face back to mine but Steve has other ideas. With the same slow, teasing speed he strips my underwear away he starts to slowly slink down the length of my body. My chest hammers as I realize what he's planning to do.
"Steve, you don't have to," I try to assure him.
Steve's eyes—which have been burning through my already hot, exposed flesh—dart up to my face. He dares to lick his lips. I squeak out a moan, making him grin. "I want to." He lowers down onto his forearms. With a bit more gusto than he's had before, Steve hoists my legs up on his shoulders. He drags my hips forward until I can feel his hot breath fanning my wet folds.
"Can I?" Steve's normal, soft voice is back. But the darkness in his eyes is staggering. He wants me—he really fucking wants me. I've never had a man stare at me with so much palpable lust before. It's staggering. It's intoxicating. His fingertip dances long swipes around the inside of my tender thighs. I jolt as he nears my core without ever actually getting there.
"Fuck—yes. Please, Steve." I wind my fingers up in his hair—anxious for him to start.
The first touch I get is a little brushing of the tip of his nose around my clit. My head falls back into his sweet smelling pillows—hands tightening around his hair—and my eyes clench shut. That little touch goes away. Then his tongue appears. He draws circles, wide and slow, all between my folds. I whimper and curl my toes along his back. His hot, wet tongue moves down to my hole—quickly darting inside. I gasp and try to push him in further. Steve's hold on my hips though is too tight. He leaves me no choice but to writhe in one place as he moves back up between circling around my clit and darting inside. The stroking, sucking pattern leaves me sopping wet but nowhere near release. I know this isn't accidental. I don't understand how, but Steve Rogers—the century old virgin—knows EXACTLY what he's doing. He's building me up to the most earth shattering orgasm I've ever had.
"Cap, S-Steve—Captain, baby please..." I whimper.
Steve stops in his worship of my pussy. He looks up at me from between my legs. I feel his fingers dig tighter into my flesh. There's a smile that's growing on his glistening lips. "What'd you call me?"
I blink my eyes open. "I—I don't know..."
Steve hums. He brings his lips to linger above my clit—so close that I can feel his words radiating off of his perfectly plump lips. "You called me a couple of things, actually." His tongue just barely darts out to prod my clit. I moan and try to get him to do it again. My whole body is tense. Every ounce of me is teetering on the edge of insanity waiting for that release. "Say it again for me, baby."
I don't hesitate this time. "Captain—Captain, please. Baby: baby, I need you."
I've given Steve what he wants, so he gives me the same. In the very instant that the 'you' leaves my lips his tongue is attached to my clit. I gasp and whimper—bucking up once at the shock—and Steve's grinning against my lower pair of lips. Relentlessly he sucks on that little bundle of abused nerves until I'm seeing stars: and I'm not even orgasming. But that final shockwave of pleasure comes when a finger slips inside of my wetness—thrusting with short, hard, curled up movements. It takes only five strokes for my back to arch up off of the mattress and my lungs to pant his name. My thighs tighten around his head, which he fully embraces as he keeps eating me out, and my vision goes black.
Steve pulls off only when he's sure it's done. He comes back up to cover the rest of my body—smiling down at me stupidly.
"You're—you're way too good at that to be a virgin," I breathlessly accuse him.
Steve laughs. He's reaching back to unhook my bra while I use my toes to drag down his boxers. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about it, I guess." He kisses me—letting me taste myself on his tongue—before throwing my bra across the room. "God: and thinking about this..." the words sort of slither out of his mouth without him realizing it. And before I can comment, Steve's pinching my soft nipple between two fingers. It's hard and erotic; making me jolt.
"Fuck!" I gasp. It kinda hurt, but in a good way.
"Payback," Steve chuckles. He rolls it around his fingers before leaning down to lovingly kiss the top of my breast.
With my feet I've only managed to pull Steve's boxers off far enough to expose his ass. I gawk back at it and laugh when he rolls his eyes at my staring. "What? It's a fine ass, Rogers. You should be proud."
"I'm more proud of yours, actually." Steve slips a hand between my bare butt and the mattress as if on cue.
"But as much as I like your ass, I wanna see the rest." I run my fingernails down his back—leaving little red tracks. Steve softly bites down on my shoulder.
"Go for it then. I'm all yours, baby."
That's all I need to hear. I pull down Steve's navy boxers the rest of the way until his rock hard, red tipped erection springs free. It bounces up against his washboard stomach with such force that I nearly choke on my own saliva. Steve's still got his face buried in my neck, kissing me there, while I gawk at his oversized cock.
"You're so fucking huge," I whisper. I trail a hand down his abs, relishing in his shivers, and then cup him gently. His erotic groan dispels my nervousness as I slowly start stroking him up and down. Precum is dribbling down the hard eleven inches of length to aid in my movement. The angry red color is almost the same shade as his shield. The veins on his arms do no justice to the fluttering, throbbing arteries that pulse beneath my fingers as I stroke up and down his pretty cock.
Steve's reached down to softly paw at my clit again—working me back up. He kisses me again, mumbling against my lips, "Are you sure?"
His size is daunting. For a split second I don't know if I can physically take it. But then I remember that this is Steve. He would never, ever hurt me. If I told him to stop—if I said no more—he'd be out and done in the very same breath.
"Yes," I say surely. "Just—just go slow." I stroke down the side of his face. He's so pretty... shaking my head, I go on. "Do you have lube?"
Steve laughs. "Actually, I do."
"Thank god," I breathe. My head falls back onto the pillow as we both laugh.
Steve moves to start rustling through his bedside drawer. "Is it really that big?" He doesn't sound like he's searching for a compliment, as most guys do, but he's genuinely confused.
"You're huge, Steve. Take it with pride and try not to break me," I try to laugh to make it seem less scary.
Steve sees right through my giggle though. He comes back to hold my cheeks—lining my face up with his. "Tell me if I hurt you, okay? I don't wanna hurt you." His thumb lovingly caresses my jaw. "Okay baby?"
"Okay."
I take the bottle from Steve's hand before he can use it. He watches me, lip trapped between his white teeth, while I stroke the lube up and down his shaft. I can see him holding back some sort of groan; throat threatening to burst open when I tease my thumb over his slit. He twitches in my hand.
"I wanna hear you," I whisper into his chest. I kiss his pecs and then squeeze him harder.
Steve lets out a string of pent up curses in one breath, "F-fucking hell, Y/N. Fuck—you're so fucking... god, I wanna fuck you so bad." He moans and grits his teeth. Never in my life (nor anyone else's) have I ever heard Steve swear so much. And frankly, it's the hottest thing I've ever had the pleasure to hear.
"Then fuck me, Captain." I try my best to keep my voice lusty and low when I whisper in his ear.
Steve groans, grabbing my hips in his hands. He lines himself up: hesitating in the very last moments before we're combined. "You still okay, doll?"
I nod—trying not to look too impatient or scared.
When I first feel that pressure start to build I'm insanely grateful for the invention of lube and for Steve stirring up a half a gallon of my own natural lubricant. The glide inside is easy for the first four—maybe five—inches. Then, even with as slow as he's going, I'm reaching out to hold his arm. "Stop, stop."
"Okay, okay." Steve lays over me with his arms holding him up on either side of my head. He can lean down and kiss my forehead, which he so sweetly does while I adjust to his size. "Talk to me, Y/N."
"I'm okay." I swallow and close my eyes. "Keep going."
Steve, looking unsure as he realizes that it's totally possible that he may hurt me, follows my command. At the pace of a snail he comes to sheath himself entirely in me. He lets out a deep, guttural grunt when his cock is fully buried.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he breathes into my hair.
"No—you're just huge," I manage to breathlessly reply. I trail my fingertips up his sweaty, taut back. His brows are furrowed and eyes closed as he comes to know what this strange sensation of being inside of a woman feels like. And while he does this, I take the initiative to start up the movements. I grind my hips up and down—digging him deeper into me. The crusade draws a long moan out of Steve's lips. It doesn't take long before he's doing most of the work. The pace he sets is slow at first, trying to push us both past the strangeness, and then he's leaving bruises on my hips with his hands and drilling into me at the same steady, constant pace of my swift heartbeat.
I flinch when Steve's thumb, moistened by the tip of his tongue, starts swirling around my bare clit.
"H-hold on. I'm too close." I push his hand away from me.
"What?" Steve slows his pace.
"You need to cum. I've already..."
Steve shuts me up with a sloppy kiss. My hands tangle up in his hair. When he pulls away he's smirking. "Ladies first." The thumb is back—gentler this time. I bite down on his bottom lip and snag it away as he hurries back up with his thrusting pace. I'm feeling more filled and sexually flustered than I've ever before. I didn't even imagine this level of sexual attraction existed. But this—hot damn, I crave his lips back on mine the second they're away. I need him to fuck me harder and faster and hold me closer in his arms.
"S-Steve," I trip over the simple noises of his name. I grip desperately onto his slick, sticky shoulder blades. "I'm so close... so, so close." I squeeze my eyes shut when he lifts my hips a bit higher—angling himself deeper. I let out a moan. My head falls back and Steve's lips search out and find the soft spot on my throat.
"That's it, baby. I've got you," Steve's voice is hardly recognizable through the grunts and lust. He's getting close to his climax: it's palpable in his tone. But call it old fashioned, he needs to see me finish first.
Thankfully for him and his wavering self-control, it doesn't take me much longer. I fall apart in his arms—searching for his lips in the dark so that I can taste him on my tongue as I cum. And with the spasms of my fluttering, warm walls Steve's staggering in his thrusts and emptying his load inside of me. I shudder at the warm, sloshing feeling that comes along with his beautiful groaning. He buries his face into my neck and bites onto my shoulder while both our bodies struggle to calm.
After it's done we remain eerily still. The only movement for a few moments comes from our fast rising and falling chests pressing together and then apart.
I help Steve carefully pull out of me: feeling too sensitive and weak to let him do it on his own. I fall back onto the muffled sheets once he's gone. I feel so hollow now without him.
"Are you alright?" Steve meekly asks.
I chuckle. Dorky, unsure of himself Steve Rogers is back. I turn my cheek. We're face-to-face on opposing pillows. "I'm good." I use my thumb to wipe a bit of lipstick off of his cheek. "How are you?"
"Great," Steve laughs lightly. "That was..." he shakes his head lightly before finishing his thought, "That was incredible."
"Absolutely." I stare back up at his ceiling. Then the room is quiet. There's nothing left to say.
Oh no. What the hell did we just do!?
"I, uh, I should probably leave." I sit up straight and realize how much of a mess of myself we've made. I groan and Steve catches on.
"No, no. Stay here. I'll be back with a towel." He lunges off of the bed like the house is on fire. Halfway to the bathroom door he spins back around—coming to quickly kiss my head before dashing off again. I roll my eyes and laugh as he disappears.
Alone, I tug his comforter up to hide my naked chest. I can't believe I just had sex with Steve Rogers... my best friend... Captain America... I run my hair through my hands.
Steve's back before I can fully reprimand myself. He's brought a warm washcloth and a dry one, too. I try to reach for them but he shakes his head. "Let me."
I pull my fingers away from the towel and into a fist. "Oh. Uh, sure. Okay."
Steve catches onto the hesitance in my voice. He raises a blond eyebrow, still very naked and still very hot, and says, "Unless you don't want me to...?"
"It's just—well, it's a nice thought—but I don't really know if that's the "let's stay friends" thing to do." I frown as I realize just how stupid this all sounds. "Even though we just had the most intense, sensual sex I've ever had and that's certainly not something you should do with a friend..." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I don't know where to draw the line."
Steve sighs. The bed dips as he sits next to me. We sit in comfortable silence, alone with our respective thoughts, for a few minutes.
"I lied," Steve announces into the air.
I sit up straighter. "I fucking knew it!" Steve gawks at me while I go on, "There was no way you could be that good with your tongue if you were a virgin..."
Steve shakes his head. "No, no. I'm not talking about that, Y/N. I'm a virgin—I mean, I was. Not anymore." He runs a hand through his messy sex hair. "That wasn't the lie."
I tug the blankets up tighter around my body. "Okay. What was it, then?"
Steve swallows. A lump can be seen dropping down his throat. "I don't think I can be cool about this." He gives his head a soft shake. "I told you that I could manage this with no strings attached but—but now that it's done..." he looks up at me with those brilliant blue eyes. "I've wanted to be with you like this for a long time. Now that it's happened, I'm not sure I can perfectly go back."
I try to comprehend what he's saying. He mistakes my silence for something else: maybe even disgust.
"But I can try for you. If you want things to go back to the way it was and never talk about this again; I'll do that for you. Or if you want one of those, those... those pals with perks like the kids these days say—then we can try that, too. Whatever you want, Y/N." Steve reaches out for my hand before stopping himself. He wants to know how it is that he can hold me first before daring to lay a hand on my skin again. I have to admit, his adamancy on treating me right is flooring.
"First of all, its friends with benefits, not pals with perks." I watch as he bashfully begins to blush under the weight of my gaze. My hand moves to squeeze his thigh. "And I know that's not something I want to do with you. All I really know is that I can't go on the same way anymore, either. It sort of sounds easy: just pretending like this never happened. But... I know that's not possible."
Steve's head solemnly dips in a nod. "I understand."
"But I also know that there's no way in hell I could ever live without you in my life." My lips twitch up in a smile when I see the blueness of his eyes shimmer brighter. "That's the only thing I'm entirely certain of in my life. That, and... and the fact that..." I bounce my eyes all over the room before finding looking back at him: sitting there with that adorable puppy dog stare. "That I love you."
"Oh thank god," Steve lets out in one rushed breath. He grabs my face with both hands—dragging me in for a long, anxious kiss. My laughter bubbles between our lips. He pulls away grinning. "I love you too—so much. For so long, actually. I just never thought you could ever—oh my god. This is the best night of my life."
"Easy there, Captain. Take a breath." I laugh and smooth some hair behind his ears. My hand lingers on his neck. "Slow down a second."
Steve grins. His forehead leans to rest against mine. I smile and close my eyes as I'm overwhelmed with his familiar scent. "Oh so now you wanna take it slow, doll?"
I shake my head and bring my hands up to his hair. "It feels like I've been waiting a hundred years for this moment, Steve. I don't wanna take anything slow at all."